The Red Baron
by Long-Vuong
Summary: There was a young man sitting limply in the cockpit, who was startlingly pale and had nearly white hair. Matthew could hear his rasping, shallow breaths. Suddenly, their eyes met, and he realized that the other's eyes were red. Blood red, the same color as the triplane. AU, oneshot, could be interpreted as PruCan.


_April 21, 1918_

_3:37 PM_

The Canadian squadron flew overhead as gunfire rattled ominously. World War I had enveloped the country of France, and the pilots had been sent to help.

Matthew Williams shifted in the cockpit nervously. It was only his third flight, after all, and the irritable Sopwith Camel he was flying was hard to control. He tried to reassure himself that it was only a patrol, just another patrol, a routine patrol of the air.

All of a sudden, gunfire erupted behind him. Twisting around so that he could get a good look at the situation, Matthew realized that a squadron of German planes had come up behind them.

His eyes widened in fear. Leading the unit was a blood-red triplane. It was the dreaded Red Baron.

Matthew cringed as shots started firing from all sides. The Sopwith pitched about dangerously in midair as he tried to get it under control.

Behind him, two other planes went down in smoke as the engines caught fire and set the fuselages aflame. The unlucky pilots were sitting ducks for the Germans as they deployed parachutes.

There was a flash of scarlet behind him as Matthew gained altitude. With a sense of dread, he realized that the Red Baron was coming straight at him.

Banking steeply, Matthew tried to shake the Baron off his tail, but it was no use. The red triplane matched his every move. Bullets whipped past his ears as the Sopwith turned around.

With jerky, erratic movements the unruly Sopwith barely dodged the hail of bullets. Nearing friendly territory, Matthew hoped that he could at least deter the Baron from following.

With a bang, something exploded behind him. Startled, Matthew turned around and saw that the tailfin was smoking. But how…? Had the engine been hit?

Suddenly, another Sopwith Camel came up behind the red triplane and joined the dogfight. Grateful for the brave soul who had distracted the Baron, Matthew made a bumpy emergency landing in a field well inside friendly territory.

Several soldiers and an airplane mechanic rushed up to him. "Hey! Are you alright!" shouted one of them.

"I'm fine," said the Canadian. Getting out of the Sopwith, he suddenly stumbled and fell.

A worried-looking private caught him. "You look real pale," he said, helping Matthew back up. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. It-it's nothing, nothing at all. I'd be more worried about the plane if I were you." A mechanic was already trying to pinpoint the source of the smoke coming out of the tail, and an assistant held a bucket of water at the ready.

Lout shouts were heard from a crowd of soldiers a little while away. Looking up, Matthew could see the other Sopwith engaged in a fierce dogfight with the Red Baron's triplane.

Whoever was flying the Sopwith was an expert pilot. Rolling, pitching, and turning, the daring pilot evaded direct attacks from the slower triplane. This went on for nearly a quarter of an hour.

The troops on the ground all gasped suddenly as black smoke started trailing from the fuselage of the Red Baron's plane. Like a dying bird, the scarlet triplane dropped lower and lower in the sky. Knowing that the Baron was doomed, the victorious Sopwith sped off to engage another enemy.

On the ground, the men realized that the triplane was headed in their direction. With a yelp, many of them scrambled to get out of the way. But not Matthew. He was mesmerized by the slow, steady descent of the triplane. It reminded him of the red maple leaves he watched fall in the autumn back home.

Matthew snapped back to reality when the assistant to the mechanic started to shake him back and forth. "Snap out of it!" screamed the assistant. "You've got to get out of the way!"

It was too late. Ducking, the two barely missed hitting the wheels of the triplane, gliding mere inches above their heads.

The red triplane bounced once, twice, then skidded for a while before stopping at an awkward angle. Despite the propeller still turning and the motor humming, there was no movement in the cockpit.

The assistant retreated to a safe distance, but Matthew stood there, overcome by a strange curiosity. Who was in the cockpit? Was there even anyone in the plane? He hadn't seen anyone jump out.

Looking closer, the wings of the plane were riddled with bullet holes. So were the fuselage and the tail. Could anyone have survived an onslaught like that? Matthew finally reached the nose of the plane. Steeling himself, he prepared for the grisly image that might lie inside. But to his surprise, it was not as he expected.

There was a young man sitting limply in the cockpit, who was startlingly pale and had nearly white hair. Matthew could hear his rasping, shallow breaths. Suddenly, their eyes met, and he realized that the other's eyes were red. Blood red, the same color as the triplane.

The other man gestured slowly to his chest. Noticing, Matthew saw that a bullet had pierced him dangerously close to the heart. Now that he thought about it, there was blood everywhere. He just hadn't noticed because of the triplane's scarlet color.

Hopping off the plane, with a deep breath Matthew called out, "Medic! Medic! We need a medic here! There's a man in there, and he's badly hurt! Medic! We need a medic!"

A couple of sympathetic people ran up carrying basic first aid supplies. When one saw the condition of the man in the cockpit, he scurried off to get the more experienced field doctors to help. Matthew watched them slowly moving the Red Baron, or whatever his name was, out of the cockpit and into a stretcher.

One of the people who had initially come to help came up to him and patted him on the back. "You did the right thing," he said. "Even if he's an enemy, a wounded man is still a wounded man."

Was it the right thing? The Red Baron had tried to kill him. But yet… Matthew couldn't quite stop thinking of the mysterious man.

* * *

******This story is based on true events. (That's right, true.)**

**Have any of you ever heard of the Red Baron? He was actually named Manfred von Richthofen, and was the son of a Prussian nobleman (though he was born in Germany). Due to him having been Prussian (althoug he lived in Germany) I decided to put Gilbert in his place.**

**In the story, Matthew takes the place of a pilot named Wilfrid May, a Canadian pilot. The second Sopwith Camel pilot was actually Arthur "Roy" Brown, also Canadian (I didn't know which character should take his place, so I ended up making him an anonymous pilot).**

**- Long-Vuong**


End file.
